


Punishment by Association

by pilindiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective shiro, injured keith, pining shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilindiel/pseuds/pilindiel
Summary: He should have listened to that coiling in his stomach, to that heavy weight in his bones, and he hears the fight over the comms before he sees it.Shiro hates being right.Keith's breathing is harsh and sharp over the electric buzz in Shiro's ears, but his voice is so dangerously low it sends a chill down his spine.Or maybe it's just the name that tumbles past Keith's lips that makes his blood freeze in his veins.“Zarkon.”Prompt: Something with Keith being healed by quintessence





	Punishment by Association

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arahir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arahir/gifts).



The purples and maroons of the Galra base fly past Shiro as he runs down the corridors, keeping his map open on his wrist to track his location. They're on one of the last surviving Balmeras, thought to be wiped out by time and war, and Shiro was determined to keep it safe, determined to keep this power source hidden from Zarkon's prying eyes.

Of course, Zarkon and his army are always one step ahead and though Voltron as a team have learned a lot, they have a long way to go.

Everyone has already gotten back to their lions except the one leading the pride and Shiro knows that can't be good – even though Keith's leadership skills have gotten better, he still wanders off when something catches his eye and he's quick to pull his sword if he feels he needs to.

They've been taking turns piloting the Black Lion, trading off the bayard and commander duties to make sure Keith gets the practice in he needs to lead the team, but the moment they stepped onto the planet Shiro had a sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn't just brush off as general anxiety.

He should have listened to that coiling in his stomach, to that heavy weight in his bones, and he hears the fight over the comms before he sees it.

Shiro hates being right.

Keith's breathing is harsh and sharp over the electric buzz in Shiro's ears, but his voice is so dangerously low it sends a chill down his spine.

Or maybe it's just the name that tumbles past Keith's lips that makes his blood freeze in his veins.

“ _Zarkon._ ”

Shiro can't hear the responses of the team over the sinking of his stomach, the pounding of his heart or the echo of his boots on the floor.

There's apprehension in Keith's voice and Shiro immediately reverts to his role as the head. It's instinct at this point.

“Do _**not**_ engage,” he barks into the headset as he urges his body onward, “I'm almost there – ”

“ _Not an option_.” Keith's voice is sharp, edging on a gasp, and the other's may not notice it but Shiro can sense his unease. No one has fought Zarkon hand-to-hand except Shiro, and well...

It took a lion to save him.

The clang of metal is too fast, Keith's breathing is too harsh. Shiro checks the monitor on his arm as the tension in his body rises the more grunts he hears from Keith's end and the terrain flashes by him outside as he races past wide windows; a wasteland of desert and jagged rocks.

Shiro pivots around the next junction and he can see them just at the end of the hallway, sparks flying from where Keith's bayard smacks against Zarkon's armour. He's so much taller that he dwarfs Keith in comparison, like a house cat against a wild animal.

Shiro can see them both in the distance and though Keith is fast enough to evade, he's unable to get his footing right, unable to withstand the strike that swings at his side. He blocks it with his shoulder but the snap it makes is deafening and the Black Lion's bayard is flung from his hands, tinkling like bells as it skids across the floor.

Keith is sloppy, off kilter and holding his side, and Zarkon is already so much more cunning, so much quicker. He hits with power raw and unbridled and his elbow cracks down on Keith's back, sending him crashing to the floor in a gasp that leaves him unsteady and on his knees.

Shiro can't stop how he calls out Keith's name – it's instinct, like his body demands it – and it's too much.

Zarkon's lips are moving and Shiro is both grateful and boiling that Keith's communication link is still open; he can hear what Zarkon is saying, but he hates that it forces him to listen to the bile he's spitting.

" _You could never take my place as the head of Voltron,_ ” he says, standing before Keith's kneeling form, “ _You haven't even given the black lion a chance to bond with you._ ” Zarkon's hands make Keith look so small in comparison, so much more fragile, and when he grabs Keith by the front of his armour, Keith's feet dangle helplessly off the ground. A trail of blood leaks from a cut on Keith's lip, swollen with whatever blow Shiro missed witnessing, and every step Shiro takes feels like it's taking him further and further away.

Keith's gloves scrape against the smooth lines of Zarkon's wrist guards and the noise they make fizzles out into static over the manic beating of Shiro's heart.

There's the glint of a long knife, serrated along one edge and deathly smooth along the other, and it glitters like glass. The hilt is transparent and there are holes inlaid in the blade, and Keith's struggling only worsens against Zarkon's immovable grip.

Shiro's eyes widen, and he hears Zarkon's words echo around in his skull.

“ _Now_ ,” Zarkon's voice is solemn and calculated; _**unimpressed**_ , “ _I will be taking what I came for._ ”

Zarkon slides the blade through like it's nothing – it stabs right under Keith's ribs and through the armour plating like butter – and he doesn't even spare Shiro a glance as the knife is swallowed by Keith's blood and flesh.

Shiro's whole body goes numb.

The world stops.

And then Keith cries out, shattering their frequency and Shiro's heart all at once.

The knife fills with deep red, flowing freely from Keith's side and dripping down to the floor, and the blood drains from Shiro's face as he screams out Keith's name.

Shiro doesn't even know if his feet are moving anymore – his heart is the loudest thing he can hear over Keith's frantic breathing in his ears. Keith still has it in him to fight, to grit his teeth against the burning inside him and push feebly against Zarkon's arm, but Zarkon just glides the blade in further and twists. The sound Keith makes is inhuman, pained like an animal, and Shiro's body thrums as he forces his screaming muscles to _**move**_.

Keith goes limp, boneless even as his fingers shove at Zarkon's arm, and Zarkon simply flicks the blade out, droplets of blood splattering against the wall. Keith drops to the ground like a sack of rocks and Shiro's stomach drops with him.

Not moving – _**Keith's not moving.**_

One of the guards raises its spear just as Shiro skids to a stop by Keith's side, but Zarkon moves first.

“Don't bother,” Zarkon says, picking up Keith's discarded bayard. Shiro hates the delay between the frequency and the actual words as they spew from Zarkon's mouth – it echoes in a sickening way, like it's mocking them. “We have what we came for.”

Shiro drops to his knees without hesitation, graceless, and he has his arm under Keith's shoulders as quickly as he can, his eyes searching the colorful marks that splash across Keith's face. The grip he has on Keith is rough, protective, and he holds him close to his chest and hopes to any God that is listening that he still has a heartbeat.

Duty demands Shiro ask what Zarkon means by his words before Zarkon disappears. Duty demands that Shiro let everyone know what's going on, that Zarkon is going towards the Black Lion, that Zarkon has the Black Bayard and the panic that rises up his chest gets caught in his throat.

But then Keith shudders, wheezes some life into his lungs, and Shiro's questions and leadership fly out the window. Keith's eyes open into slits and Shiro is reminded of that terrifying moment during the trials, when Keith was boneless and reached out to him like he needed nothing more.

_**Your friend desperately wants to see you.** _

He flashes back to Kolivan's words, to his own image reflected back at him through a viewfinder, and he hates how they coil in his gut with guilt and fear and something he's refused to put a finger on and he can't think about that right now because Keith is still _**bleeding**_ –

“ _Shiro! What's going on?_ ” Allura demands, but there's alarm warbling her voice and Shiro is brought crashing back to the real world.

He remembers himself. He remembers his strengths. The breath he takes is controlled, even as he tightens his grip on Keith's frame. Keith says his name, a gasp, and it feels like it sucks the air out of Shiro's lungs.

“I need immediate medical evac,” he barks into the headset, slipping his other arm under Keith's knees. He meets Keith's gaze and Keith's subtle nod is all the assurance he needs before he lifts. He can't hear the chatter of the comms, too overwhelmed by the way Keith spasms violently in his grip, choking out a scream and arching his body as the pain shoots through him, hot and electric.

Shiro's gentle platitudes fall on deaf ears until Keith's twitching subsides and that's almost worse than the screaming.

“ _Where's Zarkon?_ ” comes Lance's terrified question.

Shiro tries to keep his voice level, tries to stave the panic off as he takes a direction and runs. “Gone,” he says, “He got the Black Bayard.”

“ _What about Keith?!_ ” Hunk yells.

“I said I need medical evac!” Shiro shouts back. The lights of the base dance across his paladin armour, a symbol of strength and power and greatness, and Shiro has never felt so weak before in his life.

Keith coughs, wet and fragile, and his grip on Shiro's chest slips an inch, but it might as well have been a mile considering the way Shiro's whole body feels it.

Shiro addresses him now and he hates how terrified he sounds.

But then again, he's always had trouble hiding himself from Keith.

“Keith,we need to get to the Black Lion,” he says and he's surprised he can keep any of the tasks at hand with how much his mind is racing. Keith's irises – so blue they're practically violet – shift between the slits of his eyelids. “Do you know where it is?”

“Hidden.” His voice is gritty, like the single word scrapes his insides, but the reassurance is enough to quell some of Shiro's panic.

_**Some.** _

“I need an E.T.A. on that evac,” Shiro snaps into the headset, sweat forming on his brow as he takes the next corner.

There's a long silence, and something coils hot and desperate in Shiro's gut.

Help's not coming.

Of course they can't get an extraction – it's too far, they're practically in the middle of the base itself and there's no way to get assistance without endangering the castle or any of the other lions.

And Zarkon already has the Black Bayard.

Shiro's breathing is harsh, sharp in his own ears.

_**Reevaluate**_.

He shifts his weight, takes a sharp left down a different hall and when Keith says his name it's a rasp in his throat.

“Shiro...”

It sticks to his lungs and Shiro holds Keith that much tighter.

They could try to make it to Black, but Shiro has no idea how far that could be, has no idea whether they'll have to fight Zarkon on their way there or not, he has no idea if Keith will make it there or not –

“Shiro – ”

“It's okay, Keith,” Shiro mutters, ignoring the way his heart constricts, “I've got you.” It sounds weak even to his own ears. He has no idea where he's going, no idea where he _**can**_ go, and as the light outside from the bright beams of pure quintessence play across the paleness of Keith's face, he feels a sickness creep up and tighten around his lungs.

Dread.

“ _ **Takashi**_.” Keith's voice croaks, a painful sound, but it commands his attention. Shiro can't hide the the way his face falls. He's peripherally aware that the comms are still on, but this conversation is theirs, and Keith's eyes bore into his even as he nuzzles further into Shiro's arms.

“I'm sorry,” Keith says, but there's barely any strength behind it, “Sorry for...for losing against Zarkon– ”

Shiro shushes him and he's painfully aware of the flutter of Keith's heartbeat, the red still slipping down his armour. He feels covered in the slickness, covered in Keith's blood. “You don't need to – ”

“I need...I need you to go – ” And Shiro hates the conviction behind it, hates the breathlessness of his voice and the way Keith's eyes shut for longer and longer every time he blinks, “ – go get Black.” He smiles, just a little, and tightens his grip on Shiro's front. “I'll be okay.”

“I'm not _**leaving**_ you here,” Shiro implores, his voice harsh and wobbling, “You're going to be okay.”

Keith chuckles, a broken sound that cuts into a cough, and Shiro wonders how many times his heart can break.

Keith smiles, watery and helplessly honest. “I love you, you know.”

There's a gasp, but Shiro isn't sure if it's from him or the team. All he can focus on is the relief on Keith's face, the finality his words carry.

Keith thinks he's not going to make it, and the blood soaking into their armour and pooling on the floor only adds to his assumption.

“Keith – ”

Shiro swears his heart is ripped out, splayed on the floor with Keith's blood and the words that still rattle in his brain. There are tears in Keith's eyes and a stray one rolls down the side of his face but he's smiling, and Shiro has never hated himself as much as he does in this moment, holding the fading life of his whole world in his hands.

“I'm sorry...” Keith wheezes, closing his eyes, “I couldn't say it at a b-better...better time.”

The light outside is blinding, just on the outskirts of the compound, and the quintessence's pure, unaltered brightness casts long shadows on Keith's body, rising and falling with the expanding of Shiro's chest.

“Keith, I – ”

The beam of light in the distance crackles with energy, pulsing like a heartbeat even as Keith's falters.

Wait.

“Quintessence heals Galra, right?” Shiro asks. It's barely a breath, barely a hope. Keith has barely enough energy to raise an eyebrow at the thought, but Shiro doesn't expect an answer. There's a door seven paces ahead and Shiro makes it there in five, ignoring the murmur among the team over their frequency.

“I asked a question!” It's harsh, but Shiro doesn't have time for this silence anymore. This absurd hesitation.

Coran is the one who replies. “ _It should, but we don't have any –_ ”

Shiro smacks his shoulder into the control panel by the door and he's outside before it even finishes sliding along its track.

“Zarkon is extracting pure quintessence from the planet,” Shiro explains, breathless as he sprints across the sand. His feet sink into the ground, slowing his progress, and Shiro becomes painfully aware of the seconds between Keith's frail gasps.

“ _We don't know what that kind of full power will do to him,_ ” Lance pipes up, but it's shaky. Uncertain.

“It's better than nothing.”

Better than letting this happen.

Better than him _**dying**_.

Keith's whole body shudders, filled with a chill Shiro can't protect him from, and the choking sound he makes has Shiro's mind blanking, backtracking, _**reeling**_. He pushes himself faster and his skin is on fire and all he can focus on is the rapid fluttering of Keith's heart.

“Keith, stay with me – ” Shiro begs. He's flagging, Shiro can see his eyes twitch behind his lids like he's fighting a nightmare, and every step he takes feels heavy and weighted, like he has to count the seconds between Keith's breaths.

The beam of light encroaches on them, bathing them in warmth, and they're so close –

There's a shout behind him, blaster fire zooming past but he doesn't stop, doesn't turn when he hears a familiar metallic roar and he doesn't have time for the dread or fear to sink in.

He's not a leader right now. Right now, he's Takashi Shirogane, twenty-five years young and holding the man he loves in his arms as he bleeds out on a planet so very far from home.

Keith wheezes out his name, lets it tumble from his lips as his eyes fully close, and Shiro can't watch it he _**can't**_ , this isn't happening his world is collapsing around him and he's _**almost there**_.

“Stay with me – ” There's no strength to him, he's desperate and tired and either Keith is holding his breath or he's _ **not breathing**_.

The effort is last-ditch, but Shiro pays no heed to the shouts of his teammates. Doesn't listen to the commotion behind him or the frantic pounding in his ears.

He cradles Keith close to his chest, close to his heart, and he jumps.

The pure quintessence envelope them, wrapping them in a blisteringly hot embrace, and Shiro squints his eyes against the light.

Quintessence is a energy source, technology and power that is raw and staggeringly strong, but Shiro never expected it to be _**warm**_.

The light reminds Shiro of the sun back on Earth, like when you step outside first thing in the morning and are greeted with gentle rays streaming through clouds, or like the shimmer of sunshine through window blinds, dancing off the body lying next to him on the bed.

The wind that swirls around them is barely more than a breeze, and the air glitters like stars as it curls around Keith, tenderly lifting him from Shiro's arms. There's the terrified, desperate need to keep him close, and Shiro's fingers wrap tightly around Keith's wrist even if something gentle and distant tells him everything will be alright.

Keith's head lolls to the side and Shiro swallows as a glow spirals around him, spinning around him so fast it's a blur of colour and light. Shiro catches glimpses of Keith through it – the dark of his hair, the red of his armour – but it's moving too much to follow and Shiro just holds on to the solid beat of Keith's heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

He watches, and he hopes.

It feels like it takes minutes, but it could just as easily have been seconds. Time is lost here and Shiro is only comforted when the glow fades and Keith is left, eyes still closed even though the swelling on his face has vanished.

Shiro sucks in a breath, he can't remember the last time he did, and he tugs Keith closer to him. It feels like they're in zero gravity with how weightless everything is, how the only force is the one pulling them closer, and Shiro's robotic arm finds purchase on Keith's hip.

A lock of Keith's hair, framing the side of his face, is streaked white from the exposure, but Shiro just searches Keith's expression, desperate to see any signs of life.

Shiro says his name. It's all he can focus on.

Keith's brow furrows, the smallest of twitches, and Shiro's heartbeat goes out of control like a wild staccato in his chest. Shiro's hand trembles as it migrates from Keith's wrist to his cheek and he feels the warmth under his palm, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Keith?” he murmurs. Keith's eyes open, the flutter of violet irises behind long eyelashes, and the smile he gives Shiro leaves him breathless.

“Shiro,” Keith says, his gaze softening. Shiro is overwhelmed and his smile turns tender, overcome with affection and relief and even as the tension uncoils his stomach and his chest fills with emotion, he brings Keith closer, into his orbit. Keith lets him, placing his hands on Shiro's chest like they were meant to be there.

The space between them shrinks, liquefies, and Shiro feels Keith's surprised breath against his cheek. They're pulled together like magnets, strong and stubborn and eternally fated, and Shiro's hand shifts to cup Keith's jaw, wanting to press every ounce of what he's feeling into that smile that Keith reserves just for him.

There's a crackle of static in their headsets, a sharp electric whistle, and then Hunk's panicked voice breaks through. “ _What's going on?! Are you guys okay?_ ”

Keith sighs, annoyed, and Shiro just chuckles, defeated. _**Of course**_. He gives Keith's hip an affectionate squeeze and the look Keith gives him is both dubious and petulant.

“We're here, Hunk,” he assures, taking Keith's hand, “We're on our way.”

The joyous cheers over the comms and the sighs of relief bring a small smile to Keith's lips, but Shiro just tightens his grip on Keith's hand and leads him out of the beam as Keith entwines their fingers.

Shiro is surprised how cold the desert got while they were inside and he's distantly aware that the Balmera's three suns have started to dip beyond the horizon, but they barely have time to linger on it. They still have a mission and they still have enemies. They can't be idle.

Soldiers march towards them, approaching from the door Shiro manhandled his way out of earlier, and Keith already has his knife at the ready. Shiro powers up his arm, lets the glow crawl up his elbow, and prepares for the worst.

It feels better, at least, knowing Keith is by his side.

A fierce roar shakes the air, echoes across the plains and vibrates deep in Shiro's bones. There's a rush of engines, treacherously loud, and they're greeted by the Black Lion in all her majesty, her tail swiping from side to side as she stares down at Shiro and Keith with striking yellow eyes.

“What is Black doing here?” Keith shouts, “I thought I hid her.”

Shiro's smile widens imperceptibly as his gaze slides to Keith, soft and genuine. “Looks like she came to save her pilot.”

Keith's ears turn red and he shoves Shiro in the shoulder, but Shiro laughs as he takes Keith by the arm and leads him towards Black's gaping maw.

Shiro clamours into the pilot's chair and Black hums appreciatively. Keith holds on, one hand on Shiro's shoulder and the other on the grip above, and as he manuvers Black out of the chaos he wonders inwardly when he and Keith will talk about the kiss Shiro eagerly wanted to press to his lips.

He supposes they'll talk about it later – he doesn't plan on going against his instincts anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be....super honest with you there are a lot of gratuitous theories in here 
> 
> The real question is, was Black there are the end for Keith or for Shiro? :)
> 
> Also I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, ARAHIR, MY ANGSTY FRIEND. IT IS ALL FOR YOU. THE LONGEST PROMPT.
> 
> Be sure to hit me up on my [tumblr](http://pilindiel.tumblr.com/) if you have any more prompts or questions.


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